Part 3 (1/2)

Bigler shot a quick glance at Mrs. Spencer, and understood.

”I'm not to Paris at all,” he said, ”unless you send me.”

”He won't do that, Monsieur le Comte,” the lady laughed; and Lotzen, who had quite missed the hidden meaning in their words, nodded in affirmance.

”Come,” he said, ”your budget-out with it. I'm athirst for news.”

The Count drew out a cigar and, at Mrs. Spencer's smile of permission, he lighted it, and began his tale. And it took time in the telling, for the Duke was constant in his questions, and a month is very long for such as he to be torn from his usual life and haunts.

And, through it all, Mrs. Spencer lay back in sinuous indolence among the cus.h.i.+ons on the couch before the fire, one hand behind her shapely head, her eyes, languidly indifferent, upon the two men, her thoughts seemingly far away. And while he talked, Count Bigler watched her curiously, but discreetly. This was the first time he had seen the famous ”Woman in Black” so closely, and her striking beauty fairly stunned him. He knew his Paris and Vienna well, but her equal was not there-no, nor elsewhere, he would swear. Truly, he had wasted his sympathy on Lotzen-he needed none of it with such a companion for his exile.

And she, unseeing, yet seeing all, read much of his thoughts; and presently, from behind her heavy lashes, she flashed a smile upon him-half challenge, half rebuke-then turned her face from him, nor s.h.i.+fted it until the fading daylight wrapped her in its shadow.

”There, my tale is told,” the Count ended. ”I'm empty as a broken bottle-and as dry,” and he poured himself a gla.s.s of wine from the decanter on a side table.

”You are a rare gossip, truly,” said the Duke; ”but you have most carefully avoided the one matter that interests me most:-what do they say of me in Dornlitz?”

Bigler shrugged his shoulders. ”Why ask?” he said. ”You know quite well the Capital does not love you.”

”And, therefore, no reason for me to be sensitive. Come, out with it.

What do they say?”

”Very well,” said Bigler, ”if you want it, here it is:-they have the notion that you are no longer the Heir Presumptive, and it seems to give them vast delight.”

The Duke nodded. ”And on what is the notion based?”

”Originally, on hope, I fancy; but lately it has become accepted that the King not only has the power to displace you, but has actually signed the decree.”

”And Frederick-does he encourage the idea?”

The Count shook his head. ”No, except by his open fondness for the American.”

”I've been urged to go to Dornlitz and kill the American,” Lotzen remarked, with a smile and a nod toward Mrs. Spencer.

”If you can kill him,” said Bigler instantly, ”the advice is excellent.”

”Exactly. And if I can't, it's the end of me-and my friends.”

”I think your friends would gladly try the hazard,” the Count answered.

”It is dull prospect and small hope for them, even now. And candidly, my lord, to my mind, it's your only chance, if you wish the Crown; for, believe me, the Archduke Armand is fixed for the succession, and the day he weds the Princess Royal will see him formally proclaimed.”

The Duke strode to the far end of the room and back again.

”Is that your honest advice-to go to Dornlitz?” he asked.

The other arose and raised his hand in salute. ”It is, sir; and not mine alone, but Gimels' and Rosen's and Whippen's, and all the others'-that is what brought me here.”